


Chance

by breakdancingonthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, Draco and Ron are friends, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, dobby is a terrible wing man, draco has a big fat crush on harry, draco is trying to be a better person, i love this, like when they're no longer children, long fic, so cute, they are baby first years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 07:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakdancingonthemoon/pseuds/breakdancingonthemoon
Summary: “Harry, you can’t sit here.” Draco hissed. “This is the Slytherin table.”Harry looked up in surprise, noticing for the first time that no one had moved from their house tables. Surly there were students who had friends or even siblings in other houses? “Why not?”“You-you’re supposed to eat with your house.”“Why?”“Because!”“Because why?” Harry sassed back. “That’s a ridiculous rule!”“It’s not a rule, exactly-”“Good. Pass the corn.”(A retelling of the series, where the Malfoys find Harry at King's Cross instead of the Weaslys.)





	1. The Malfoy's at King's Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has so many spelling mistakes, and the tenses are all mixed up, but this is literally 48 fucking pages in these first 6 chapters and I wrote them all today because the idea would not leave my head. AKA I started at 10 and ended at 5 in the morning. I am so tired. I hope you enjoy!

“Honestly, every year more and more of these _muggles_ show up, running amok all over the place. How are we supposed to _get_ anywhere without someone _seeing?_ ”

“You’re the one who thought taking the train was a right of passage, _I_ wanted to drop him off in the carriage-”

“Oh Lucious, it takes forever to get to there by pegasus, you just want an excuse to delay the inevitable.”

“It’s not too late to send him to Drumstrong-”

“ _Drumstrong_ isn’t the best school in the country.”

“ _Drumstrong_ isn’t overflowing with mudbloods. And it’s closer to the manor.”

“ _Father_ , I’ll be home for Christmas! It’s not like I’m going to Wales or something, it’s Scotland!”

“Hush, Draco, Mummy and I are talking.”

“Ugh, these _muggles.”_

“Stop complaining, Narcissa.”

“I’ll keep complaining until the day you die.”

“Death cannot come swiftly enough.”

“Oh shut it, you know you love me.”

Harry’s head had snapped around at the sound of the words “Muggle,” and the more he listened to the tall blonde family’s conversation, the more certain he was that they were talking about the train he was supposed to be on in less than ten minutes.

He quickly pushed his trolley through the sea of people until he came up right behind them.

“Excuse me," He began timidly, "but do you know how to...how to, um-”

At the sound of his mumblings, the woman (presumably named Narcissa,) turned around, black and white hair swishing slightly where it hung over the side of her shoulder. “Yes, darling?”

Harry swallowed. She looked a bit like the evil queen from sleeping beauty, but with a more expensive handbag. “I’m sorry to bother you, miss-”

“Who’s this?” The man turned around next, just as intimidating, and even taller. His hair was longer than hers, and, if possible, blonder.

“Um, I-I was just wondering...um, if you knew how to...uh.”

The woman’s pretty eyes widened “Oh, the poor dear doesn’t know how to get onto the platform!” She exclaimed.

“Mother, it’s that boy from the shop who was getting fitted with me!” It was only then that Harry saw the same pointy faced boy from the robe shop who wouldn’t cease his drawling. He inwardly sighed, already mentally preparing for the rebuke he was certain to get. Maybe he could take a cab to Hogwarts...?

To his surprise, instead of saying something off putting and swaggering away, the blonde boy excitedly grasped the edge of his mums robe. His eyes were grey like his mothers, wide and shiny. “You never gave me your owl, but I knew I’d see you at school so I wasn’t too worried!”

“Lucius, darling, it’s Draco’s little friend! From the robe shop!” She clasped her hands in delight.

Friend? Last Harry checked, he didn’t have any friends, much less stuck up pointy faced boys...who were suddenly...grasping at his hands… and tugging him along?

“Do you need any help? _I_ can show you how to get through to the platform. I’ve done it at least twice! Can I, Father?” Harry hurriedly grabbed onto the handle of his cart as they began walking along, Hedwig chirping irritably at the sudden jolt. The boy (Dracula, was it?) kept hold of his hand as his father pushed his cart for him.

The man chuckled. “Always eager to show off, isn’t he?” Draco blushed and scowled while his father sneered down at Harry. ”Now, why are you wondering around the platform all by yourself?

“Lucious, play nice.” Narcissa said.

“I’d prefer Draco doesn’t make friends with the wrong sort before the school year even begins, darling. He's clearly wearing Muggle clothes.”

“And if it was up to you he’d have all of three friends.” Narcissa playfully slaps her husband on the arm, her air of elegance and grace taking a backseat for the moment.

“ _Pureblood_ friends.”

“Oh he can have a few half bloods if he’d like, Lucy.” Harry suddenly wishes more than anything he’d asked Hagrid a bit more about wizard vocabulary, as he had no idea what they were talking about. His blood type was A positive, did that count?

Lucius sighed, but the soft affection in his gaze melted as soon as he looked away from Narcissa to Harry. His silk green robes looked expensive and uncomfortable. Harry wondered if all wizard clothes looked like fancy pajamas.

“Well, boy? Where are your parents?”

Harry decided he disliked this man almost as much as he disliked Ms. Figgins’ cat photo albums. “My parents are dead.”

Everyone abruptly stopped moving, causing Harry to walk straight into Dracula’s back and bop his nose.

“...Oh.” The man looked a bit embarrassed. His wife smashed the tip of her sharp black velvet heel into his big toe. Harry was impressed that his only reaction was a flair of his nostrils.

“DRACO, DEAR, WHY DON’T YOU SHOW THIS NICE BOY HOW TO GET ONTO THE PLATFORM. WE'LL BE THERE IN JUST A MOMENT.” Narcissa had a deadly look in her eyes, which she directed straight at her husband, who was desperately trying to appear properly chastised.

“This way.” Draco had a look similar to his fathers, and was quickly trying to vacate the premises. Harry was all too happy to follow.

After weaving in and out of the crowd for a short while, the boys finally reached a brick pillar. Draco stopped and stood proudly before it.

“Er…” Harry was confused.

“Just watch me,” He smirked, “It’s _magic_.” With that, he let go of Harry’s hand, grabbed the handle of his trolley, and ran straight for the brick wall.

Before Harry could process what was happening, or even scream that his life had only just begun, the blonde disappeared through the bricks as if they were made of truffle pudding.

Harry stood with his mouth agape.

Draco’s head popped back out through the bricks, and this time Harry yelped.

Draco laughed. “It’s perfectly safe, the bricks are just an illusion charm you dolt. Come on!” The floating head disappeared back into the pillar.

When he had gotten his racing heart back under control, he walked slowly over to the bricks and placed his palm against the surface.

It fell right through.

He pulled back sharply and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Surprisingly, everyone within the vicinity was going on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

Since it was getting awfully close to departure time, Harry took a deep breath and gripped the handles of his trolley.

 _What’s the worst that could happen?_ He thought as he ran headfirst towards the brick wall.

Thankfully he didn’t ram into the pillar.

Unthankfully, he ran straight into a post saying “9 ¾ “ instead.

He winced and face palmed his hand as a snarky laugh sounded behind him.

He turned and glared at Draco, who was doubled over at his failure.

“I should have warned you about the sign...the look on your face!” At first Harry was a bit cross, but he soon started laughing because of Draco's reaction, which only made Draco laugh harder. Before long the both of them were gasping for breath and holding onto their trolleys for dear life.

He caught his breathe, glancing up to take his first look around.

The train station at kings cross had all but disappeared, a glowing gold replica taking its place as paper airplanes whistled by with fluttering minds of their own, floating suitcases following behind elder children in black robes and pointy hats. To the right, a lady was checking her reflection in a compact mirror, frowning as her hair changed from orange to yellow to blue before finally settling on green. To the left he saw a man appear seemingly out of thin air with a sound like the crack of a whip, followed by luggage being carried on the back of a… of a…

Was that horse on _fire!?_

The whistle blew.

“Shit, we’re gonna be late! Come on!”

“Language, young man!” Narcissa said sharply from behind. He hadn’t noticed them come through. Lucious’s left ear looked a bit red, and Harry had a suspicion it may have been pinched between Narcissa’s sharp acrylic nails. She leaned down to peck him on the cheek, wrapping him up in a quick hug along with Lucious. Harry turned away, slightly downcast, and gathered a few of the packages that had fallen off of his cart.

They were led to a compartment towards the back where all the luggage would be placed, (minus Hedwig and Bubo Bubo, a beautiful Eagle Owl that Draco said had been a start of school present,) before saying their last goodbyes to the Malfoy parents and getting on the train.

“Remember to write! I expect weekly updates of your progress with your studies.” Lucius's face was stern, but his eyes were soft and sad looking, and Harry could see how much he was going to miss his son. Once again Harry’s chest went tight, wishing Hagrid would’ve been able to come along and see him off.

“And don’t hesitate to tell us if you need anything! We’ll be sending truffles on Friday!”

“Enough for Crabbe and Goyle?” Draco shouted through their open compartment, leaning halfway out the window. He would’ve fallen if not for Harry holding onto the back of his black robes. He was already in his Hogwarts uniform.

“Of course. We’ll send extra for your new friend.” Lucious said, as the final whistle blew and the train started slowly pulling away. ”What was your name again, boy?”

Harry could’ve smacked himself for forgetting. “Oh, sorry sir! I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

Narcissa’s eyes went wide, draw dropping almost to the floor. Her husband froze. She said something, startled, but Harry couldn’t hear her over the grinding of the train.

When he pulled Draco back inside, he saw the blonde boys face was pale. “Did you say your name was Harry Potter?”

“Yes?” His eyebrows drew together, confusion etching his face.

Draco’s face broke into one of pure joy. “Oh my god, oh my god, _you’re_ Harry Potter!? You’re, like, the greatest wizard that’s ever l _ived_!”

“I mean, I didn’t even know I was a wizard until about a month ago-”

He started talking a mile a minute. “You’re legendary! I have every book about you, I read all the newspaper stories- no one know’s what you look like though, the ministry has been keeping your records under wraps, believe me, I tried-”

“What’s the ministry-”

“I mean, you defeated _the dark lord!_ And he was the most powerful wizard in history!”

“Hagrid told me a bit about it but I honestly don’t know-”

Draco squealed, bringing Harry abruptly back to his birthday when Hagrid gave Dudley a pig's tail. “I can’t believe I’m talking to Harry _bloody_ Potter!”

He stopped, however, when he realized just how red Harry’s cheeks were. His face flushed pink and he cleared his throat. “I mean… It’s not a big deal or anything.”

“Are there really books about me?”

“Yeah, loads of them!” Draco sat down, patting the seat next to him for Harry to join. “Adalbert Waffling wrote an entire series detailing your parents time in school.”

Harry’s heart sped up. “My parents?”

“Yeah! I’ve got the whole series, it’s mostly tabloid quality in my opinion, nothing compared to Bathilda Bagshots documentation-”

“You wouldn't happen to have a copy, would you?” He asked eagerly.

Draco’s ears went red, and he pulled his carry on bag into his lap. “I’ve got the first edition signed.”

For the next half hour, the two boys spent their time perusing through books on the first wizarding war, attempting to piece together parts of Harry’s history through different authors dramatic takes on the events that led to the demise of ‘The Dark Lord,’ as Draco called him. It was interspersed with questions about wizard terminology, which Draco was initially confused about until Harry told him that he’d been raised by muggles, to Draco’s outrage and horror. (“ _Muggles!?_ Raising the bloody Boy Who Lived!? What was the ministry _thinking!”)_ There were several pictures, mostly newspaper clippings, but when they started moving Harry couldn’t contain his excitement.

And they came upon the first picture Harry had ever seen of his parents.

Draco pointed them out, black and white spread. “Here they are! You look a lot like your dad, you know.”

Harry felt like his heart was ready to burst, He traced a finger down the page. His father wore glasses too. It was such a simple thing, but it made him want to cry.

"Except for your eyes. You've got your mothers eyes, I should've figured."

“What...what color was my mothers hair?”

“Hm? Oh, she was a ginger. Hair as red as a firecracker, they say. I’ve got a photo book of the first war at my house, I’ll owl mum to send it in the post! There’s lots of pictures of her in there.”

Harry feels his throat grow thick. His parents wave at him, holding hands and laughing. “Thank you, Draco.”

Draco sneered. “I can’t believe they trusted you with muggles. You should've been raised in your own world.”

Harry smiled. Draco started ranting about ministry politics and Harry flipped the page to see his mum at seventeen, elbowing his dad in the ribs.

After a while, the door to their compartment slides open to reveal a scrawny looking red haired boy with dirt on his nose.

“Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Draco sneered, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but before he could say anything Harry went, “Sure! We’ve got plenty of room.”

He came in, relieved. “Thanks, I’ve been sitting with my brothers, but they keep trying to turn Percy’s wand into a blast ended skrewt.”

“What’s a blast ended skrewt?” Harry asked.

“You don’t wanna know mate.” He fell backwards into the seat across from them with a sigh. “My name’s Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“We could tell.” Draco snapped, smirking at Harry as if they were sharing an inside joke.

Ron sat up straighter. “What do you mean by that, bottle blonde?”

“Red hair, hand me down robes? It was obvious from the moment you walked in.”

Harry rolled his eyes, causing Draco’s smirk to fall away. He remembered why he was apprehensive about this kid back in the robe shop.

“What’s so wrong with hand me down robes?” Ron asked, defensively clutching to his greying clothes.

“Yeah, Draco, what’s so wrong with them?” Harry rounded on him. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with _my_ hand me downs.”

Draco floundered for a moment, clearly not expecting Harry Potter, the greatest wizard in history, to take the side of this nobody. “I don’t have a problem with your clothes!”

Harry leaned in a bit close and said, “I think you should apologize to Ron, then.”

Draco closed his mouth, looking between Harry and Ron for a second before scowling and mumbling an apology.

“That’s alright, mate. No harm done. Draco, was it?”

Draco ignored him, arms crossed over his chest. Harry sighed. “Yes, Draco. Draco Malfoy. And I’m Harry Potter.”

Ron’s eyes widened, and the barrage of omg-you’re-harry-potter started up all over again. Draco sat pouting in the corner until Ron asked if they could see his scar. That perked him right up, grey eyes wide.

“Sure, I suppose.” Harry moved his bangs away and laughed at their looks of awe. Draco started yelling when Ron asked if he could touch it.

When the Trolly of sweets came by, Draco jumped up and excitedly dragged Harry over to show him all the different wizarding candies.

“You’ve got to try the pumpkin pasties, they might be more like the muggle sweets your used to. These are called ‘Berties Every Flavored Beans,’ I got a bogey flavored one once, watch out, and these are licorice sticks except they make sparks when you blow out of them, and these ones are called-”

“Anything for you, dear?” The plump lady called to Ron, who was still sitting on the bench. He hunched down a bit lower. Harry felt a bit guilty for not noticing. Draco didn’t seem to hear her, listing off all the sweets he wanted Harry to try.

Ron smiled tightly. “I’m all set, thanks.” He struggled to pull out a lump of plastic wrapped, smooshed sandwiches from his pocket.

Harry frowned, all too empathetic with watching other people get the sweets while you yourself are stuck watching someone else eat them.

But he had money now.

“We’ll take the lot!” He exclaimed excitedly, throwing on a big smile in Rons direction. Ron blinked, before grinning back.

Draco laughed. “Harry, I know you’ve never had pumpkin pasties before but…” He caught sight of the look the other boys were sharing, and squared his jaw, not to be outdone by a  _Weasley._ If anyone was gonna be Potters friend, it was _him._

The trolly lady spluttered. “I- are you sure you boys can eat that much?”

Draco pulled out a bag of galleons from his trousers pocket. “I think we’ll manage.” He spat out.

Harry beamed at him, splitting the cost and bringing back armfuls of sweets to taste and share. Ron tucked into the Pumpkin pasties immediately, overjoyed. Harry asked questions about everything he tried, Ron and Draco eager to answer. (Although Draco seemed annoyed every time Ron beat him to an question. Ron was oblivious, happily stuffing his mouth with food.) Draco’s favorite was the fudge, and Ron loved the Whistling Whimsies. When they opened the Berties beans, they each tried the same color to see who would get bubble gum or pepto bismol, cotton candy or toothpaste. Draco actually got one that tasted like tree bark, and Ron howled with laughter when he spat it out the window.

“These are called chocolate frogs, they come with trading cards! I’ve got almost a full set of the Wizongment!”

“No way, I’ve been trying to get that for ages.” Ron groaned. “I just keep getting stupid Dumbledore.”

“I know, right? I mean, what does he do all day that he’s on _every single_ card?” Draco opened up a new one, handing the jumping frog to Harry to eat while he checked which famous witch or wizard he’d gotten. He rolled his eyes at the name. “Cassandra Vablatsky? I’ve already got two of her.”

“Can I have her of you don’t want it?” Ron piped up over a mouthful of treacle tart.

Draco rolled his eyes and handed it over.

“Is it true that we’re gonna be living in a castle?” Harry asked. He was still flipping through Albert Waffling’s _The Story of The Potters,_ learning about what life was like at Hogwarts for his mum and dad. There wasn’t a whole lot of information about their personal lives, mostly detailing events of the great wizarding war and what a good quidditch player his dad was. (“What’s Quidditch?” He asked, only for both boys to shriek “ _YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF QUIDDITCH!?”_ )

“Of course we are! You better be in Slytherin, we’ve got the best common rooms.” Draco grinned. “I’m not sure about the rooming situation, but my family has a lot of sway, so I can bunk us together! My dad says we’re in the dungeons right under the great lake, and sometimes you can see mermaids, or the Giant Squid!” Draco broke off a piece of his sweet, handing it to Harry. It tasted like strawberries, if they decided to start exploding.

“Ew, the Slytherin common rooms are in the dungeons? Wouldn’t that be cold? And _slimy?”_ Ron said with his mouth full.

“We’ve got this thing called _heating_ charms, Weasley, not that you meatheads in the Gryffindor tower care an awful lot about comfort.”

“Hey, we’ve got the tallest tower at school-”

“That’s only because someone stuck a hockey stick to the top of it so that you could be bigger than Ravenclaw-”

“Hey, that _someone_ was two someones, and it’s the best idea Fred and George have ever had-”

“Wait, mermaids exist?” Harry said.

“-and anyway, he’s gonna be in Gryffindor, like his parents, like _heroes_ always are.” Ron finished, smug.

Draco stewed. “Heroes have got nothing to do with it. Slytherins are cunning, resourceful-”

“Sneaky, untrustworthy-” Ron countered.

“Oh, and what about Gryffindor? Land of the Jocks and parties?”

“Hell yeah, Gryffindor is about bravery, friendship-”

“Arrogance, pride-” Draco sniped.

“Alright, stop it you two.” Harry interjected.

Just then, the compartment door opened again. “Has anyone seen Neville's toad?”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Draco and Ron bickered all the way through the rest of the train ride, but Harry found he didn’t mind. They had to call back Hermione to evenly separate the rest of the treats before the train stopped, because Ron and Draco kept insisting the other had pocketed something extra. No one accused Harry, which was refreshing. It took her fifteen minutes to count it out into thirds. Harry gave her five chocolate frogs as a thank you. It was nice to be around someone else from the muggle world, even if it was clear she’d done far more research about the school than he had. He mostly could hardly believe that not one, but _two_ people actually wanted to talk to him, let alone share their treats. Draco kept insisting they’d be sorted into Slytherin, and that the two of them would be rooming together with his mates Crabbe and Goyle, who were getting dropped off at the castle by their parents rather than taking the train. Ron, apparently, had 5 brothers and a little sister, and was a “pureblood” like the Malfoys, whatever that meant. Draco muttered something about blood traitors as they were hopping off the train, which would’ve led to a fistfight if not for the half giant waiting to greet Harry at the train stop.

The lamp came bobbing over their heads. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid asked, booming voice drawing the attention of the children.

“Hi Hagrid!” He said. Draco wrinkled his nose, which made Harry elbow him in the stomach. He yelped. Ron was gaping up at Hagrid in awe.

The three of them, along with the boy Neville (who was still crying about losing his toad. Harry offered him a chocolate frog, but that just made him cry harder. Draco was practically biting through his lip to keep from laughing,) took Hagrid's boat across the lake, guided by floating lanterns that Harry couldn’t stop staring at amongst the fog. Draco kept gushing about the Slytherin common rooms, and how water bowtruckles would tap on the glass to make faces at the students.

And then Harry saw the Castle. He squeezed Draco’s hand as tight as he could, grinning madly. Draco blushed and squeezed back. Ron’s mouth had dropped down to his chin.

It was a woman named Mcgnagall who greeted them at the gates. She was tall and slender, with wire rimmed glasses set upon a stern nose. Harry imagines she was once an elegant woman like Draco’s mum. He hugged Hagrid goodbye.

“Looks like ye started makin’ yerself some friends!” He boomed happily.

“Looks like it.” Harry grinned. He ran to catch up with the group as the professor led them into the castle.

“When do we go get our luggage?” He whispered to Ron.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. The house elves bring them up to our rooms for us while we’re eating.” Draco butted in.

“Elves are _real?”_

“It’s all real, mate.” Ron whispered back.

They're lead through hidden corridors, candle lit hallways, staircases moving as they climb. Neville got stuck on one of the moving staircases and had to be rescued by a suit of armour, Ron and Draco choking back laughter at Mcgnagall's stern look. When they got to what she called the “Great Hall,” He stared up in awe at the floating candles under a starlit sky.

He saw a high table set at the front of the room, where all the adults were sitting. Hagrid waved at him from his seat. He waved back.

“Are those our teachers?” He whispered to Ron as Mcgonagall explained the sorting process.

“Most of ‘em. Percy says Trelawny's always late, likes to smoke some weird green tea leaves before dinner.”

“Shush, it’s starting,” Snapped Draco. They shut up.

Draco, predictably, got Slytherin as soon as the sorting hat touched his blond head. He sauntered over to the table with a swagger in his step, chest puffed up in pride. Harry eagerly waved at him, and he waved back, pointing to two large boys who looked a bit more like grown men than 1st years. Harry suspected these were the famous Crabbe and Goyle.

 _Good luck!_ Draco mouthed to him. He pointed to an empty seat to his right.

When Ron sat down, he held his breath, fingers and toes crossed in anticipation. When the hat called out ‘Gryffindor!” He let out a sigh of relief and went to sit next to three red headed boys on the other side of the Great Hall.

“Excuse me, how are they calling us up? They’re not going in alphabetical order.” Harry whispered to a girl with thick eyebrows.

“It just sort of does what it wants.” She whispered back.

When it was finally Harry’s turn, a hush rang over the crowd. He gulped, aware of the eyes glued to the back of his head. He self consciously tried to flatten the hair that always stuck up at the back.

Mcgonagall placed the hat on his head.

And he held his breath.

“I see you’ve made a few friends, haven't you?” It called out, booming laughter cutting through the voices in the crowd. “But you’re not sure which one you’d rather be sorted with more.”

He could feel sweat gathering at his hairline, eyes scrunched tight.

“No, that’s not quite right, is it? You don’t actually care which house you’re part of.”

The murmuring began to pick up. Harry shook his head.

The hat chuckled, shaking on his head, the brim dipping down below Harry's green eyes. “Oh don’t lie to yourself. You’ve never had friends before in your life. Don’t you want to be with them? What about that Malfoy lad?”

He heard some snickering in the crowd. The tips of his ears glowed red, and he resolutely refused to look up at Draco.

“You can lie all you’d like. But _I_ know what you really want.”

Harry knew as well.

 _You’d like to be in the same house as your parents,_ the hat said, to Harry’s surprise, inside his head.

“GRYFFINDOR!” It shouted, and the red and gold table exploded in screaming applause. He could hear groans coming from the other tables as the legendary boy who lived got snatched up by the jocks. Ron excitedly patted him on the back, pushing him down in a spot amongst the red heads saved especially for him. The twin boys (Harry assumed these were the famed Fred and George,) were standing up on the table screaming. Mgconagall had to get them down.

Harry tried to make eye contact with Draco as he sat down amongst various excited red headed Weasley's and one nervous Longbottom, but it seemed his friend was very interested in his goblet all of a sudden.

There was more sorting, more shouting, and at one point a little girl began to cry as she was sorted into Ravenclaw, away from her twin sister Pavarti. And when the singing began, Fred and George shouted out “Hogwarts hogwarts hoggy hoggy hogwarts” to the tune of the funeral dirge. When the song commenced, the old man in the center stood at long last. His beard was so long it ran past his waist, a starry twinkle in his eyes. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Is he… a bit mad?” Harry asked timidly.

"Mad?" said Percy. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

To his surprise, the empty dishes at their table were now piled high with food, appearing seemingly out of thin air. Ron began to tuck in right away, Percy shouting at Fred and George to “put that spoonful of mashed potatoes down _this instant!_ ” Harry grinned along, piling food atop his plate, before grabbing up his cutlery and gauntlet and starting to walk away.

“Er-where are you going?” Ron asked around a mouth full of chicken.

“I thought I’d sit with Draco, since he seems a bit upset about the sorting. You coming?” Harry asked innocently.

“You’re _what?”_ Fred and George exclaimed in unison.

“You’re right, Ron should eat with his family his first day. I’ll see you in the dorm!” Harry said, not noticing the numerous panicked Weasley protests as he made his way over to the Slytherin table.

Draco looked up in shock as Harry started to settle in next to him.

“What are you doing!?” He spluttered.

“Ron’s going to eat with his brothers, but he’ll be here tomorrow!” Harry says happily, beginning to dig in.

“Harry, you can’t sit here.” Draco hissed. “This is the Slytherin table.”

Harry looked up in surprise, noticing for the first time that no one had moved from their house tables. Surly there were students who had friends or even siblings in other houses? “Why not?”

“You-you’re supposed to eat with your house.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Because _why?”_ Harry sassed back. “That’s a ridiculous rule!”

“It’s not a rule, exactly-”

“Good. Pass the corn.”

There were several older students staring at him in shock, while a boy he recognizes as Zambini was outright glaring. “Do you...not want to sit with me?” Harry’s never had friends before. Is this not what friends did? Maybe he was being presumptuous, or too forward, or-

“Of _course_ I want to sit with you! I wanted to _room_ with you!” Draco sounded upset, but all Harry felt was relief. “But you’re not in Slytherin!”

“Why do houses matter so much?” Harry asked stubbornly. His stomach growled. “Can we just eat?”

“Look, I know you weren’t raised in this world so you may not know all the protocols-”

“It doesn’t matter what house I’m in. You’re my friend.”

Draco blinked.

“Now pass the corn.”

Draco numbly passed him the corn.

The silence lasted all of three seconds, Draco suddenly realizing he hadn’t introduced Harry to Crabbe or Goyle yet. Apparently they were childhood friends, their parents worked together during the war or something. They grunt their hellos, staring intensely at a plate of jello as if trying to figure out how it works. Crabbe poked it with his wand and recoiled when it jiggled. Draco started going on about the history of Slytherin and the Hogwarts founders, Harry nodding along and asking questions in between stuffing his face. This food was _delicious,_ far better than Aunt Petunia's cooking or the ready made microwave meals he often ate in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry noticed on of those Patil girls move from the Gryffindor table to sit with her sister at Ravenclaw, waving shyly to Harry as she sits down. He waved enthusiastically back. A few other students timidly moved as well, earning strange looks as they went. Once desert arrived Draco once again began explaining what the individual dishes were. It seems the deserts are different for each table, the ones at Slytherin awash in green and dark chocolates. He’s stuffed to his limit by the time he’s taste tested all he can, and Draco looked no better.

Before they leave, the old man (Draco tells him that that’s Dumbldore,) stood again and began to speak.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Filch has been at this school for years,” Draco said. “He doesn’t have any magic. Dad says he’s a squib.”

“What’s a squib?”

“When a muggle is born to a wizarding family. It’s like a reverse mudblood, when a witch or wizard is born by muggles.” Draco smirked. “Like that Granger girl.”

Harry’s about to ask what mudblood means, when Dumbledore goes on:

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Draco elbowed him in excitement. An older student shushes them both. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Goyle.

"Is he ever?" He grunted back.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed: "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please…”

When it’s time to go their separate ways, Draco clung to Harry’s robe sleeve.

“Tomorrow morning, sit with me so that we can compare schedules. And make sure your robes look ironed, Uncle Snape is the potions master and he always gets on people’s backs about that.”

“I didn’t know your uncle worked at the school.”

“Well, he’s not really my uncle, but him and dad are friends from the War.” Draco answered hurriedly, beginning to walk as they were led out of the hall. “I’ll pack extra quills incase you need them, and after classes I’ll show you the lake, and then-”

Harry pulled Draco into a tight hug, stopping him in his tracks. He pulled back, wide grin on his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” He said, waving as he ran over to Ron. Draco had a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry worried a bit that maybe he did too much again, but is too excited to think about it any further when they get to the hall and he noticed the painting’s were moving outside of their frames.


	2. Uncle Snape

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the blonde hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lined up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Draco would yell at them to piss off. Harry wished they would, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Ron was absolutely no help with navigation: The two of them ended up getting lost in the toilets and somehow ended up in the _girls_ bathroom in their attempt to escape. Draco was marginally better, but his confidence took a direct hit when an angry ghost began shrieking at the three boys in Portuguese when they wandered into the gallows on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Honestly, what school had _gallows_ in the basement?

Draco was honestly the only reason Ron and him hadn’t missed morning breakfast every day, coming to rescue them from their dorm. Harry was grateful; He knew it meant a lot, him going to Gryffindor tower every day. He had a feeling Draco didn’t like the house very much.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

“He does _not_ favor us! We’re just better.” Draco sneered. “If you keep adding that much sugar you’ll get sugar grout.” Ron stuck out his tongue and poured more.

"Wish McGonagall favored us," grumbled Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

True to his word, they’d three eaten breakfast together, and then lunch, and then dinner for the past five days. Ron and Draco always argued about where they were going to sit, so they’d taken to alternating between tables every other meal. Today was a Gryffindor day, and Draco was keeping his elbows close to his sides to avoid touching anybody, grumpy and on edge. Harry knew Draco was only tolerating Ron because he was friends with Harry, and sometimes he could physically see him biting at his tongue to keep from lashing out at him. Harry had a feeling Ron was the same, but he was being more civil about it.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, 108 circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropped letters and packages onto their laps. It was an incredible sight, taking his breathe away as the sound of flapping drew nearer. Bubo the eagle Owl had brought Draco something new every day. First was that photo book with pictures of Harry’s parents, which they’d poured over for hours after classes, Draco and Ron almost getting into a fistfight about alternating facts from the War. Yesterday a beautiful black box with green silk ribbon had arrived with cubed chocolate fudge from his Mum, a letter attached telling him to share. To  _everyone’s_ surprise, he’d very begrudgingly given a piece to Ron, before duping half of it on Harry. Ron seemed a bit shell shocked but ate it anyway. Harry was happy that Draco was trying, at least.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy Scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Draco's quill, scribbled an excited _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

“Are you sure you want to be hanging around with a halfbreed?” Draco sneered. His mum had sent him a new notebook, beautiful black leather with his name pressed in gold. Harry wrinkled his nose. He didn't know what halfbreed meant, but it didn't sound very nice. He knew boys at his old school who called Tommy Wagner a halfbreed because his mum was black and his dad was white. It put a sour taste in his mouth.

“Hagrid's my friend, of course I want to see him. Plus, he turned my cousin into a pig this summer.”

Ron choked on his toast, Draco eyebrows raising in surprised. “He did _what!?”_

“I mean- it was just the tail, it wasn’t that bad.”

Draco laughed out loud. “Even my dad doesn’t have the guts to do magic on muggles! Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems.”

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson was turning out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

“I thought you said this Snape guy was your uncle,” Ron grumbled, rubbing his shoulders from the weight of his school bag. It had obviously been patched up a few times, and the strap looked like it was about to break loose. “Yet you can’t even find his bloody classroom!”

“Well you’re not exactly the biggest help, are you,” Draco snapped.

Draco was excited, because Slytherins and Gryffindors shared three classes together: Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration. They had one class together a day as the classes alternated. Harry wondered why Draco didn’t just come hang out in the Gryffindor common room with them. There were couches and cushions and a warm fire always roaring.

“Oh, look! We’re here!” He said excitedly, pulling Harry who pulled Ron twords a gathering of nervous first years outside a door in the darkest corner of the Dungeons. “I told you I’d find it!”

“You told us you’d find Mcgonagall's classroom too, and we ended up stuck in a ballroom dancing class with fifth years for half an hour!” Ron snapped.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t dancing along,” Draco sneered.

Ron and Draco argued about where they were going to sit. Draco wanted to be with Crabbe and Goyle, who were currently poking one of the pickled animal jars to see if it would move. Ron wanted to sit at the Gryffindor table with Neville because surprisingly, given how timid he was, he was incredibly smart. So far he was the only one who was any good at any of their lessons, Hermione being the exception. Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Draco didn't have much of a head start.

Draco conceded on sitting with Neville, but insisted on bringing Crabbe and Goyle with him. They sat in the row behind, Neville quivering slightly at their menacing looks. Harry insisted they weren’t going to shoot spitballs at the back of his head. They weren’t really mean, just a bit dense, only becoming aggressive when Draco told them to, and he always stopped at one firm look from Harry, properly chastised. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Draco insisted it would get better once they actually started learning.

Snape started taking roll call. He was a greasy looking man, with a hooked nose and eyes black like Hagrid's, but they had none of the warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity." Draco petted him on the shoulder with a grin.

Harry didn’t think he liked Snape very much.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." More silence followed this little speech. Draco was smirking, clearly looking forward to the class. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. Harry jumped in his seat. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of _what?_ Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. Draco furrowed his eyebrows.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"  

Draco shot his hand up, Hermione’s stretched as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. "I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He _had_ looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?_ Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand, raising his eyebrows at Draco’s. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Draco started raising his again, but dropped it down when he finally caught on to what his beloved uncle was doing.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you ask her?”

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

Before he could open his mouth to retort, Harry said, “Or Draco, he’s had his hand up.”

He knew Draco knew the answers. He clearly liked potions.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco pumped up his chest with pride. “Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.”

“Very good. I expect nothing less from your family. Ten points to Slytherin.” Snape drawls. “Well? Aren’t you all going to write that down?”

They all hurriedly take out their parchment paper. Harry’s been using pens and pencils, still laughs at the incredulous ways Ron and Malfoy stare at them as he writes. Muggle technology makes Ron excited and Draco uncomfortable, but as soon as he breaks out the glitter gel pens Draco hops on the bandwagon. Draco’s got a gorgeous black Hippogriff feather attached to the end of his quill, black india ink sitting at the corner of his desk. Ron’s quill is a chicken feather taped together twice.

“I told you he favored the Slytherins.” Ron grumbled.

“I knew the right answer!” Draco snapped. He turned to Harry as Snape began his lecture. “Uncle isn’t always like that. Maybe it’s because we’re sitting with a blood traitor.”

“Oi, I can hear you!”

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week - why did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

“If you’re going I’m going,” Draco said snottily. “Harry wants to make a _good_ impression. You’ll probably eat all his tea cakes with that giant mouth of yours.”

“You’ll probably make the poor sod cry and sit on you!” Ron snapped back.

“You can _both_ come, and if you’re not polite no one gets to use my gel pens anymore."

That shuts them right up.

At five to three, when classes are over for the day, Ron and Harry meet back up with Draco and they made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Draco squeaked and jumped behind Harry, clearly scared of the large dog. Hagrid raised his eyebrow at Harry when he noted the blonde boy, but Harry just grinned, and that was good enough for him.  

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste, earning a jab in the ribs from Harry.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. "This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. “And Draco. They’re my friends.”

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. “I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." He caste a questioning look at Draco, who seemed scared to touch anything in fear of dirtying his robes. “And I hear yer a Malfoy, huh? I’m surprised yer hangin’ around with the likes of us. What would yer father say?”

“Harry is the most valuable ally one could have. He defeated the dark lord.” Draco said proudly. Hagrid chuckles.

“That he did.”

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Draco had a much harder time trying not to gag, but clearly fear of losing gel pen privileges makes him choke it down. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

The boys were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it." Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seems to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?" Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that. "How's yer brother Charlie?" He asked Ron. Draco nudged Harry’s side, showed him the newspaper that had been sitting on Hagrids bed. He reads the caption:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

“Gringotts is supposed to be the most secure place in the _world_ next to Hogwarts!” Draco scoffed. “My father is going to hear about this-we may need to transfer our accounts to the colonies. Surprising that it happened on your birthday.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, looking quickly at the date again.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

“Wha- why do you know Harry’s birthday?” Ron asked.

Draco’s ears turned pink, Harry too busy with the newspaper article to notice. “I...must’ve read it somewhere."

“Draco’s got loads of books about me apparently. He might know more about my than I do.” Harry said distractedly.

Ron started snickering, but Hagrid boomed out a laugh loud enough to scare the birds from the trees outside.


	3. Flying Lessons

Draco and Ron butted heads about a lot of things, but when it really mattered, they wholeheartedly agreed.

One of those was flying lessons.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week!” Ron said in excitement. They’d spent the weekend exploring the grounds, finally convincing Draco to come up to the Gryffindor common rooms for chess. It was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. What was originally a supposed to be a friendly game turned into a five hour match to the death, a large gathering of students cheering Ron on as they tore into each other. Harry cheered for Draco to try and even out the playing field. It honestly wasn’t a surprise when Ron finally won-Draco had been hanging on by a thread the whole time, scheming his way across the board in desperation. Harry thinks it's impressive enough that he held out for so long, a true Slytherin. Ron was an incredibly good player. The Gryffindors lifted Ron up into the air and Harry laughed at the disgruntled look of fury on Draco’s face.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can’t even play normal chess. I’d be lost if my pieces started moving around on their own.” Harry patted him on the back. Fred and George got them ice cream from Hogsmeade in celebration, and they ate it by the lake, Draco stealing the cherry from Ron’s.

“My father says I’ve been flying since I could walk,” Draco said proudly. He was the only student who brought his own broomstick, a sleek black Comet 260. It was a gift from his father for doing well on his first month of school, but Harry suspects his dad would have given it to him regardless. He thinks it’s nice that his parents are so caring. “I fly all the time on our manor. Harry, you should spend some time over the Holiday’s with me, we’ll get a broom for you and we can fly!” He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

“You should come to the Burrow, too. My brothers are wicked at Quidditch, but they’re nothing compared to Ginny. She kicks all our arses.” Ron’s practically jumping up and down as they made their way to the fields. Harry’s happy that Slytherins and Gryffindors have flying lessons together, but he’s also a bit worried. He’s so excited he could jump out of his skin, but he’s never flown before, and it looks like the only people _without_ any practice were him and the muggle borns. Also Neville, who’s grandmother feared he’d end up accidentally killing himself if his feet ever left the ground. He crossed his fingers and hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived, and they all quickly lined up alongside the twenty brooms on the ground. Draco scowled when his Nimbus was taken away, because he “First years weren't allowed to have broomsticks.” He stood across from Harry on the Slytherin side.

Hooch had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!” everyone shouted.

To his glee, Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Draco's managed to come up with very little trouble, but Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, Rons smacked him in the face, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron both doubled over laughing when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years, the tips of his ears red.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and-

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get. She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

“Didn’t you hear? He broke his wrist!” Ron snapped, looking hard at Draco. “There’s nothing funny about that!”

“Oh come on, Weasly, they can heal a few broken bones over night! What’s wrong with a good laugh!” Draco smirked, hands on his hips.

“Because it’s mean.” Harry said softly. Draco looked up, finally noticing how quiet Harry had gotten. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Look!" said Pansy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He thinks it was called a Remembrall. It glittered in the sun as she held it up.

"Give that here, Parkinson," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Pansy tossed it over to the Zambini kid, who had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -- you'll get us all into trouble." Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. Draco was being mean for no reason, just to impress these Slytherin twats. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He almost fell off, however, when he felt a _woosh_ beside him, and to his surprise, Draco was souring into the air as well. He hadn’t been lying; He _could_ fly well.

“He said to give it to him!” Draco yelled angrily. He was hovering at level with Zambini, looking at him hard.

Zambini raised an eyebrow. “Did he now? Since when are you one to stick up for mudbloods?”

Draco looked like he was seeing red. “He’s not a mudblood! The Potter’s were purebloods, just like us.”

“He was raised by muggles, Malfoy. His mum was a dirty mudblood.”

Harry still doesn’t know what a mudblood is, but his grip tightened on his broom handle at the mention of his mum.

“He’s just as good as us!” Draco shoutsed back.

“He killed our Lord!” Zambini snapped. Draco hesitated.

“Voldemort was a pussy, and so are you!” Harry yelled. Zambini’s face went white at the name, Draco flinching hard. Apparently that gave him the strength he needed to grip his broom and grit his teeth.

“That’s right! And Harry killed him! That makes him more powerful than you or I will ever be! You’re _nothing_ compared to him!”

Zambini yelled, rushed forward, and to Harry’s horror, knocked Draco off his broom.

“DRACO!” He heard Ron yell from below. He doesn't even think, just dipped his broom in a nose dive and plummets.

He barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground, yanking at his arm and hearing a _pop._ Draco’s face was whiter than usual, clinging desperately to the back of his robes. His eyes were as big as saucers, bone knuckle grip around his middle as they took off back into the sky. Harry could feel how hard his heart was beating against his back.

Harry’s shaking, too. That fall could’ve killed him.

“ _GIVE US THE FUCKING BALL!”_ He screamed! He heard Ron cheer from below, Hermione gasp. Draco tightened his grip around him.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall.

"Go!" Draco yelled!

He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down again, less scared than the last time, Draco’s arms wrapped tight around his middle - next second they were gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching-

“Draco!” He yelled, and saw him stretch out his pale hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time for Harry to pull his broom straight, and the two toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in Draco's fist.

"HARRY POTTER!" His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crabbe and Goiyle run over to Draco in concern, heard him groan in pain. He got to his feet, trembling. "Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts --"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "-- how dare you -- might have broken your neck --"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil.”

"But Zambini --"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Malfoy, follow me, now."

“But Malfoy didn’t do anything-” Goyle starts.

“NOW!” Cries Mcgnagall.

Harry caught sight of Zambini’s triumphant face and Pansy’s concerned glance at Draco as they left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. Maybe Mr. Malfoy could save Draco with his influence, but Harry was going back to that cupboard under the stairs, no more good food, no more magic, no more friends- He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at them; they had to jog to keep up, Draco holding his shoulder gingerly as they went. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to them. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with the boys trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and Draco and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him? He looked frantically at Draco, who had the same terrified look in his eyes. He thought corporal punishment was a thing of the past.

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwickes class looking confused. "Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry, Draco trailing awkwardly behind.

McGonagall stopped, seeming to have noticed Draco for the first time. “What are you still doing here, Mister Malfoy?”

“But-proffesor, you said-”

“Go to the hospital wing immediately! You’ve obviously sprained something!” She snaped.

“Professor, please don’t expel Harry, it was my fault!” He rushed out in a panic.

“No it wasn’t, don’t blame him! I was the one who took off after Zambini-”

“I was the one who insulted Longbottom-”

“You caught the remeberall, you've more than mad up for it-”

“Please don’t be mad at me, I'm sorry!” Draco looked to be on the cusp of tears. It took Harry aback. “I’ll even say it to his stupid fat face!” He turned to Mcgonagall. “Expel me instead!”

“Who on _earth_ said anything about expulsion?” Mcgonagall looked shocked. Wood shifts around uncomfortably.

“Er…” the boys start.

“No one is getting expelled. Now go to the hospital wing!”

Draco throws a look at Harry that he can’t quite place, and scampered off.

 

\-------------------------

 

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime, and Harry and Ron were spending it visiting Draco and Neville in the hospital wing. Harry had just finished telling them what had happened when he'd spoken with Wood and McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest house player in-”

“About a century,” said Draco, shoveling pie into his mouth. His arm was in a sling, same as Nevilles. Turns out he dislocated it in the fall. Ron had been remarkably nice to Draco, and the blond was actually returning the sentiment for the moment- it seems he’d heard him scream as well. “Obviously you’d get it, you’re the boy who lived. With the way you took off today- looks like Slytherins going to have to train even harder if we’re going to beat you this year.”

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry. "I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

“Can you take the curtain down?” Asked Neville timidly.

Neville had smushed their beds together after Draco gave him his rememberall back, seemingly no longer worried that he may be like the other Slytherin boys. Harry was quite proud of him for not biting the boys head off after the fifth story about his grandmothers insane antics. He clearly didn’t want to upset Harry again. But as much as Harry liked Neville, there’s no way he could keep a secret as big as this, so Draco cast a silencing charm around his bed while listening to the news.

Draco rolled his eyes and waved his wand, drawing the curtain back in the process. Neville scooched forward on his bed and reached for the cranberry sauce.

“Thanks for getting my ball back, Malfoy.” He said timidly.

“I already told you, Longbottom- It was all Harry.”

“Not really- you’re the one that caught it, plus you chewed out Zambini pretty well too.” Harry grinned at the awestruck look in Neville’s eyes.

“When will you be out of here?” Harry asked.

“Tomorrow morning, probably. My father’s furious, says he wants to sue the school, but I convinced him not to.” He scoops a bit of pudding off Ron’s plate, making him swat at him with his spoon. “Mum and dad want to send you a gift, a thank you. For saving me.”

Harry felt his cheeks get red. “I didn’t do anything.”

Draco put the spoon in his mouth, goes back for more.

“Eat your own bloody pudding!” Ron yelled. He lets him scoop it up anyway.

“Father’s having a talk with Zambini’s mother. I’m sure it was an accident.”

Harry scoffed. “I doubt it. If he ever tries that again, I’ll be there. I’ll always catch you when you fall.”

Draco doesn’t look at him, but his ears get bright pink. Ron almost had a spazz attack when he scooped up the rest of his pudding.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

He shouldn’t be surprised when, two weeks later, Hedwig and Bubo Bubo arrive in the Great Hall carrying a broom shaped parchment wrapped parcel, but he is. He’s almost afraid to ask how much money the Malfoy’s have.

“I can’t open this.” He said point blank. Ron and Draco were practically screaming, fists pumped in the air.

“You can and you will, I picked It out myself!” Draco said excitedly. They’re at the Slytherin table for breakfast today, and everyone’s huddled around to see what’s arrived. Crabbe and Goyle swat at the hands of anyone trying to touch it. They’re kinda stupid, but sweet in their own brawny way.

“C’mon, Harry! This is perfect! You won’t have to use those crappy school brooms for Quiditch practice anymore!” Ron was vibrating.

"Shush, it's a secret!" Harry whispered furiously, looking at the curious faces of the Slytherin table.

“And just in time for the season kick off.” Draco said. “Father payed extra for speedy post, but I suppose Bubo may have gotten lost. This was supposed to be here _last_ week for your practices. I could barely keep myself from spilling the beans. Father will talk to the postman-”

“I _can’t_ accept this.” Harry repeated. He was in shock, looked up at Professor Mcgonnagol at the head table who was wearing one of those rare smiles of hers.

“Too late, it’s already paid for. Father wanted to pay the whole amount, but your Quiditch coach said she wanted to pitch in. Father was offended, but Mum assured him it was a positive gesture, not a comment on our status.” Draco pushed the parcel towards Harry. “It’s a thank you. Now open it.”

Harry felt a lump heavy in his throat. He’s never gotten a present before in his life.

“Alright, but you lot need to open it with me. You too, Crabbe, Goyle.” They looked confused, then excited. Harry wondered if they functioned under a hive mind. They’d started trailing after him a bit, ever since he got in a fight defending them against Ethan Murdock when he called them retards.

“On three?” Ron asked.

“One, Two-”

They all tear into the paper, ripping away the wrappings. The whole table gasped at what was inside.

“IT’S A NIMBUS 2000!” Ron shrieked. That caught the attention of the Ravenclaw table, a few students running over to get a look, Parvati and Patil included. “They just came out- How the bloody hell did your dad manage to get his hands on it!?” Ron rounded on Draco, who could barely contain his excitement.

“My father has friends in the company,” He said proudly, nose stuck up in the air with a smirk on his face. “He insisted on the best. I helped pick out the model, knew you’d need something good if you had any hope of beating Slytherin with _your_ knobby knees.” Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and _Nimbus Two Thousand_ written in gold near the top.

“I love it.” He said reverently. He ran his hand along the smooth handle. “I’ve got to write your dad a thank you note.”

“Aren’t first years not allowed to have broomsticks?” Zambini sneered.

“He’s a Quidditch player, he’s got special permission.” Ron snaped. Harry elbows him in the ribs, because _it's supposed to be a secret._ Crabbe crossed his arms, while Goyle cracked his knuckles. Harry wondered what life would be like if they weren’t on his side.

Draco's smiling at him, big and bright, and he's glad he never has to take that chance.


	4. Halloween

On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that "Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone." Ron looked awkward. They’d been practicing charms earlier and he’d snapped at her, annoyed that she always seemed to get them right on the first try. _Wingardian Leviosa_ was difficult to pronounce. 

Today was a Gryffindor table day. To Harry and Ron’s surprise, not only were Crabbe and Goyle sitting with them, but the Weasley twins were flanked on either side of Draco, Percy’s nose stuck in a book at Georges side. Draco looked up at them for help.

“What are you doing to the poor sod?” Ron barked out.

“What do you mean?” George asked innocently.

“We’re just asking him about his intentions with our lovely little Harry here.” Fred says. George ruffles the blonde’s hair, making his neck retract like a turtle, eyes dead inside. Harry hid a snort in his palm, sitting across from him next to Goyle, who patted him hard on the back before turning to look intensely at the smiley face Crabbe drew on his DADA homework.

“What _are_ your intentions with me?” Harry asked cheekily. Draco went red as a tomato, making Fred and George coo and pinch his cheeks.

The Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get over magic.

The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. There was an uproar. Draco starts screaming, Ron starts piling chicken drumsticks into his pockets, looking around for a way to escape. Harry, who didn’t know trolls existed until just now, started panicking because everyone else was panicking. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” muttered Malfoy, who’d been hurried into their house group in the confusion since he’d already been at the table. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm. Draco bumped into his back at the abrupt stop. "I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

“No way.” Said Draco. “I am not about to die over a mudblood.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” said Harry.

Ron bit his lip. "Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom, Draco grumbling all the while. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"He’s probably rounding up idiotic students who wandered away from the group while a troll is on the loose,” Hissed Draco.

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?" Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. Draco visibly gagged. And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. Ron threw a hand over Draco’s mouth to stifle his girlish scream.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long. The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

“We’re going to die,” Said Draco. They ignored him.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it. 'Yes!" Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Said Draco. He looked like he was about to faint.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside, Draco tripping and landing flat on his face.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

Draco dived in front of him, shaking in fear, and pulled out his wand. "Stupify!"

The spell missed it completely, but managed to knock off one of the bathroom doors from it's hinges, making the troll turn at the crash.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. Draco started actively screaming, throwing pieces of broken off wood at the creature alongside Ron. The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

"What the  _bloody hell are you doing!?"_ Draco screamed.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Draco threw his shoe at it. Ron pulled out his own wand -- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Draco appeared to be quite close to peeing himself.

It was Hermione who spoke first. "Is it -- dead?"

“Quick, stomp on it’s throat. I’ll go for the jugular.” Draco whispered furiously. Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

“I don't think so," said Harry, “I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh -- troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at the four of them. Harry had never seen her quite so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory? Mister Malfoy, get your foot away from that thing's neck!"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look, as if he was at fault for corrupting his favorite nephew. Harry looked at the floor, finding Draco’s shoe. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. “I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them." Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Malfoy distracted it, and Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

“It’s true!” Draco piped up, looking at Snape. “We didn't have time to get a teacher, so we just acted!”

"Well - in that case..." said Professor Snape, looking at McGonagall. She didn’t seem quite as convinced by Draco’s testimony. She stared at the four of them.

"Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?" Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets. "Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left. Professor McGonagall turned to the boys. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor and Slytherin five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

“Professor, I believe these boys deserve more than five points for their bravery. Malfoy especially.” Snape butts in. Harry and Ron’s jaws drop the the floor. “I believe twenty is a more fitting number.”

Mcgonagall rolls her eyes. “Fine, Severus. But I won’t be encouraging this kind of behavior!” She said sharply at them. Draco smiled at Snape, who’s expressions softened slightly, before hardening at Harry. He gives them a nod.

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"I can’t believe _Snape_ gave us twenty points!" Ron exclaimed. "Has he gone mental? Since when is he nice to us!”

“It’s all thanks to me. My cunning convinced him-”

“Oi, shut up, who’s the one who nearly pissed himself back there?”

“How _dare_ you-"

"Good of Hermione to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him. They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Crap, I should’ve gone to my own dorms,” Draco muttered. “All the foods going to be gone by the time I get there.”

“You can just stay with us,” Ron offered. “There’s plenty.”

“I don’t want to have to sneak out for bed” Draco said awkwardly.

“Just bunk with us,” He offered again.

Harry and Draco share a look. Since when is Ron so nice to him?

His’s ears turn pink. “But if you think you’re sharing my bed, you’ve got another thing coming, Malfoy.”

“As if I’d want to sleep near your Chudley cannon posters anyway,” He sneered back.

“Oi, don’t diss the cannons!”

“They’ve never won a single season!”

“They’re just biding their time!”

"Pig snout," Harry said, grinning, and they entered. The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates. But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

It was very late by the time they finally got to bed, full of food and laughter, tingling in excitement after recounting their story of victory to the awed looks on the older student's faces. Fred and George had lifted Draco into the air, much to his numerous protests, and paraded him around the room. Harry just laughed along with Hermione at the scandalized look on his face. It seemed the twins had finally warmed up to him, officially adopting him along with Harry as an honorary Weasley. Draco just wallowed in misery, giving up on swatting away Percy's hands from ruffling his hair once it was clear Harry had no intention of saving them. It was decided that Draco would sleep in Harry's bed, with an extra pillow donated by Seamus. Draco had been absolutely mortified at the thought of borrowing  _Gryffindor_ pajamas, rounding on poor Neville who had been the one to offer up his. They had to get Hermione to work a charm to change the colors into his signature green. He still complained the whole time, used to his black silk pajamas that his mother had embroidered his name into. Seamus wouldn't stop teasing him, but it was a friendly kind of teasing, and even though he was getting pouty and worked up, Harry was happy. He'd never had a sleepover, after all, and now here he was, with his bestfriends, Ron snoring on his own bed, Draco and he curled under the thick comforter cast in a heating charm after much grumbling from the blonde.

Harry yawned. "Draco?"

"What." He snapped in irritation, punching his pillow to try and soften it. He was used to the downy feathers of his own, not the factory brand cotton Seamus's muggle father had bought him for school.

"We're gonna be friends forever, right?."

That made Draco pause, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Obviously, you idiot. What did you think this was? I've been waiting to meet you since I was..." He trails off, scowling slightly. He refuses to meet Harry's eyes. "Well. I'm not about to let you make friends with any more scum than you already have."

"Oi, I have a great taste in friends."

Draco snorts. "Your friends are all idiots."

"You're one to talk, what with dumb and dumber following you around like two lost puppies."

"Hey, weren't you yelling at me for calling them dumb not two days ago?"

"That's different, Crabbe and Goyle are my friends now too, I'm  _allowed_ to call them dumb!" Harry was smiling sleepily, nuzzling closer to Draco, who was red up to the tips of his ears.

"Since when was that a rule." He grumbled, placing a shaky hand over Harry's where it was curled up on his pillow. Harry hummed in contentment. He didn't think he'd ever felt happier in his life.

"Since you've been calling Ron and idiot."

"That dolt isn't me  _friend-"_

Harry laughed, eyes closed, and Draco blushed harder at the sound, sinking farther into the warm sheets. "Keep telling yourself that, mate."

It was quiet for a while, and Harry thought Draco had fallen asleep, when suddenly he scooted even closer and gently wrapped a trembling arm around Harry's waist. He wasn't sure if he himself was awake or not.

"Forever." Draco mumbled, face buried in his pillow. Harry drifted off into a pleasant sleep.


	5. Quidditch

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots. The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play (Ron, Draco, and Hermione being the exceptions. Turns out having a star student as your friend was very helpful when it came to sneaking into places you weren’t supposed to be,) because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out weeks ago, due to Ron and Draco being unable to keep their mouths shut, and Harry didn't know which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. Draco immediately asked his Mum to get Harry a signed copy of it.

Draco and Hermione butted heads. A lot. Mostly Draco butting his head while Hermione cheerfully tried to be his friend, but Harry had hope, because it may have taken a few months, but he was now close with Ron. Draco was clearly annoyed at having her in their group, but he tried to bite his tongue.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since the boys had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. Draco had a fur lined designer coat that he was currently sharing with Ron, who’s jacket had holes patched up at the elbows and looked far too thin for the weather. He pretended to be begrudging about it, but Harry could tell he was already calculating how to give Ron one of his jackets without him feeling like it was a hand out. They were standing with their backs to the fire, getting warm, when Snape crossed the courtyard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. The boys and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

“Uncl-Professor Snape, sir,” Draco said, stepping forward, dragging Ron along who was still sharing the coat, “That’s his own copy. It arrived yesterday by post.”

Snape sneered. “Very well.” He muttered, limping away.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

“Hey, he’s not _that_ bad. I’m sure he just doesn’t want to damage school property."

“Why are you always sticking up for him?” Hermione asked.

“ 'Cause he’s his uncle, and he gets special treatment.” Ron replied. Draco jabbed his heel into his foot. Ron jabbed back, and before long the four of them were giggling and jumping up and down trying to crush the other person’s toes.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. Today was a Slytherin day, but they decided to eat at the Gryffindor table so that Harry wouldn’t get clobbered by the upperclassmen decked out in green and rooting for their own team.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

“Have a sausage,” Said Draco.

"I'm not hungry." Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

Ron nudged Draco, mouthful of eggs. “Who’re you gonna be rooting for today.”

“Hm? Oh, Slytherin of course.” He said. He forked a sausage and put it on Harry’s plate. “No offense, Potter, but we’re going to destroy your team. Now eat, you can’t _only_ rely on that broom to catch the snitch.”

Hermione frowned. “So you’re rooting for Slytherin, but want Harry to win the game?”

“Catching the snitch doesn’t win the game, you idiot.” Draco snaped at her. “It _ends_ the game. Slytherin can win easy, all we’ve got to do is score 200 points.”

“As if Gryffindor’s not going to score a goal before Harry catches the snitch!” Ron yelled. “We’re going to beat you into the ground!”

“Yeah we are!” Chime in Fred and George. Their faces were painted red down the middle.

“Oi, you’re sitting with us, right?” Ron asked Draco.

He seemed to contemplate it. “Fine. But I’m still rooting for Slytherin; I refuse to wear that gaudy red.”

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Draco and Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. Draco was decked out entirely in green, along with Crabbe and Goyle who joined him in the Gryffindor booth. A lot of students stared at them, but when Fred and George came by to ruffle Draco’s hair, (much to his annoyance,) they were deemed acceptable and left to their devices. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers, Ron's rat, had ruined. It said **Potter for President,**  with the “for” in Draco’s cursive, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors, between Red and Green.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green). Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry.

Harry could barely breathe through his nervousness, hands tightening on the handle of his broom when the got in their places. He looked up at the Gryffindor box, saw Hermione and Draco waving excitedly at him, Crabbe and Goyle waving little red flags with their faces covered in green paint. He swallowed. It was going to be fine.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air.

They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor." The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice drive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and look what we have here, some green in a sea of red on the stands! Looks like Gryffindors new star Seeker has some friends switching sides for the game!”

Harry grinned, knows Draco’s probably mortified at the concept of _ever_ rooting for his rival house.

“-and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead-- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Draco put his face in his hands

“Cheer up, mate! The games just begun!” Ron said happily. He pat Draco on he back, laughing when he aggressively shoved him off.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them. "Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

“Although Jordan seems keen on public humiliation,“ Draco grumbled.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry. Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

That didn’t seem to be working.

As the game goes on, Harry’s nearly hit four times, bludgers swishing past his head so fast he’s getting whiplash. It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened.

His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that. It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off, and there’s no way Draco would’ve let his father buy a defective one, much less get it approved by Mcgonagall. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts -- he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score!" The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have...."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on.

“What’s happening to his broom!?” Draco cried. Then the whole crowd gasped.

Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

“No way, my father inspected it himself-” Draco was panicking, leaning so far over the edge that Ron hand Goyle had to grab onto the edge of his robes to keep him from falling over. “Why aren’t they calling a time out, he’s going to fall!”

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand." At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look." Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

“What? There’s no way-” Draco grabbed at the binoculars, looking for himself. His lips started moving as he read what Snape was saying.

“You idiots, that’s an anti possession charm! Look, Flitwick’s doing it too!”

“How do you know that?” Ron asked.

“My father taught me how to defend myself against dark magic in case my aunt ever got out of Azkaban.”

“You’ve got an aunt in _Azkaban!?”_ Ron shrieked.

“Wait a second- Look at Quirrel.” He passed the binoculars back to Hermione, who frowned as she looked at him.

“He’s got his hand covering his mouth.”

“See? If Uncle Severus was doing Dark Magic, don’t you think he’s smart enough to think to _die it?”_ Draco asked. Just then, Harry’s broom gave another dangerous lurch. “Hermione, c’mon!”

“Wait-Where are you two going?” Ron cried, but the two of them had already dispersed into the crowd.

Harry was desperately trying to hold onto his broomstick, heart beating out of his chest in fear. Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees a shock of blue appear on Professor Quirrles robes, and to his immense relief, he has control over his broom again. He takes a moment to calm his breathing, and sees Quirrl erratically dancing in an obvious Jiggly Legs charm, but then he catches a glimpse of gold float by, and he’s off.

 

\----------------------------

 

They went to Hagrid’s hut to celebrate, Ron still reeling from Gryffindor’s victory. Draco, however, wasn’t even thinking about his houses loss.

“It was Quirrel,” He insisted, hands wrapped around the mug of his tea. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Quirrel do somethin' like that?"

“I still think it was Snape,” Ron said. Draco slammed his tea down angrily.

“It was _Quirrel._ We couldn’t see what he was muttering, the only bloody thing I saw was his turban, he’s _hiding_ something! Think about it! He was the one who knew about the troll in the dungeon! Snape obviously was trying to save Harry, maybe he was snooping around on Halloween because he was suspicious about Quirrel-”

“So you finally admit he was snooping-”

“Ron, I will force this treacle tart down your throat.”

“What about his limp?” Hermione asked. “He was on the third floor, wasn’t he? It’s still too much of a coincidence.”

“Yeah, how’d he get that limp!?” Ron asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s a dog bite, you dolt.”

“How do you know that.

“I asked him.”

“And you _believed_ him?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m going with Draco on this one, Hermione. We may not like him, but Draco’s known him longer. If he thinks he’s trustworthy, I do too.”

Draco tries to hide it in his tea, but he’s clearly flustered at Harry’s words.

“A dog bite- do you mean fluffy?” Hagrid said, then immediately threw a hand over his mouth.

It doesn’t take them long to get a name out of him: Nicolas Flamel.


	6. Christmas Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter of the night (Or morning- it's like 5 am.) I am halfway done with the next chapter at Malfoy Manor, but I NEED TO SLEEP so I'm taking a breather real quick. Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy as much as I do, and I'll see you tomorrow with the update!

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. Draco and Ron get into the snowball fight of the century, Hermione and Harry watching at the sidelines with two migs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Surprisingly, Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons were warm and toasty. Harry suspects Draco might have mentioned something to the professor.

"We have ten Christmas trees every year in our Manor," said Draco proudly, stirring his golden cauldron. “One for each room, and Mum enchants them so they don’t die. Our house elves decorate every year, we get silver tinsel for the staircase rails and Pixie dust for the chandeliers. Dobby’s the best at it, he enchants hundreds of candles to float about. They always smell like cinnamon.”

Harry was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish with Hermione. Draco was partnered up with Ron.

“Charlie always goes out with Bill to find a tree that takes up the whole living room!” Ron piped up. “My mum knits us all sweaters, and makes the _best_ treacle fudge. This year, though, we’re visiting Charlie in Romania! He’s training Dragons there!”

“That sounds amazing!” Harry gushed. Ever since he found out Charlie worked with Dragons, he’s been obsessed. 

“My whole family goes to my grandmothers house for Christmas. All my cousins sleep in the same room, and we stay up all night drinking hot chocolate. My dad dresses up as Santa for the younger ones.” Hermione said

“Oh? Can’t you just call up Saint Nicholas and ask him to drop in?” Draco asked.

"Not everyone has Nick on speed dial, you know." Ron said.

“...what.” Hermione dropped her mermaid scale into the cauldron in shock. It turns a beautiful sea green, and immediately explodes.

“Are you saying that Santa Cause is real?” Harry squeaked.

Draco and Ron look confused at the shocked looks on Harry and Hermione’s faces. “Yeah? He was a great wizard. He’s still working up at the north pole as a ghost now.”

“What are you doing for Christmas, Harry? Do you think you’ll have any time to visit Malfoy manor?” Draco’s looking intently down at their textbook, trying not to seem too eager. Harry smiled.

“I’m staying here for the Holidays, actually.”

Three heads shoot up in surprise.

“Really? Won’t your aunt and uncle miss you?” Hermione asked.

“What about your presents? Are they going to post them in?” Draco’s got priorities, as always.

Harry laughed. “Last christmas my cousin threw a temper tantrum because he got thirty six gifts instead of thirty seven, and I got a pack of socks. Oh, and Vernon changed the light in the cupboard I sleep in. I doubt they’ve even noticed I’m gone.”

Apparently it’s not as funny as he thought it was.

Hermione’s still confused. “But-you’ve been gone for months! How could they not be eager to see you?”

“ _Thirty six presents??_ Isn’t that a tad excessive?” Draco said. “Last year I only got twenty three!” Priorities.

“Oi, socks? That’s it?” Ron asked, incredulous.

“Wait, did you say you _sleep in a cupboard!?”_ Draco screamed.

Harry suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable.

He knows his family situation isn’t normal, but since it’s his only frame of reference, he never knows just how _abnormal_ it is until something like this happens and he’s tripping over his feet trying to rectify the situation.

Draco looked about ready to kill something. Ron edged away slowly. “Did you say those dirty muggles make the _boy who lived,_ savior of the wizarding world, the one who defeated _the Dark Lord,_ sleep in a _FUCKING CUPBOARD!?”_ He roared.

“Language, Mister Malfoy.” Snape called from his desk.

Seamus accidentally burned himself. “Aw, shit-”

“Ten points from gryffindor, Mister Finnigan.” Snape snapped.

“Er-it’s a lot roomier than you’d think.” Harry said awkwardly. Ron looked pissed. Hermione’s got her brow creased in concern. Draco’s entire face down to his neck is red.

“You know, if you want company, I can stay here for the holiday-” Ron started, but Draco cut him off.

“Stay with me for christmas.” He said.

“I-what?” Harry spluttered.

Draco’s too angry to notice. “Come to Malfoy Manor for Christmas, it’s better than being here alone. We have a grand ball every year, and the house elves cook a feast, and we can drink hot cocoa with Father on Christmas eve.”

Hermione clapped her hands. “Oh, Draco, that’s so kind of you to offer! I was going to suggest my house, but you _have_ to go to that ball! It sounds like so much fun!”

“I-er-I don’t have a suit.”

“You can borrow some of my robes, or we can tailor something for you in Diagon alley, we always shop there for presents anyway.” Draco looked like he’d calmed down a bit, formulating a plan in his head.”

“What about your parents?? Shouldn’t you ask them first?”

Draco waved his hand, nose stuck up in the air. “I already asked if you could visit for a few days, I’m sure extending it to the whole break would be fine. Mum would be more than happy to have you.”

Harry’s trapped. “I said I’d visit Hagrid for tea.”

“We’ll send him an invitation. Or how about we just invite him to the ball?”

“Oh, the ball!” Hermione squealed. “You have to go, Harry!”

“It’s really short notice-”

“Yeah, mate! The Malfoy’s are loaded, think of the presents!” Ron said. Priorities.

“Come on. We can spend Christmas together.” Draco insisted.

Harry finally grinned, and they all cheered. “ _Fine,_ fine, but if your father tries to give me twenty three presents I’m leaving immediately.”

They visit Hagrid after class, Draco heading to the Slytherin common rooms to floo his father for permission to bring Harry for the holiday. Hagrid’s putting up the tree in the Great Hall, Proffessor Flitwick hanging up Christmas decorations with his wand.

“How many days till yer break starts?” He asked.

“Just one.” Harry said. The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. “I’m staying with Malfoy over break, apparently.”

Hagrid paused at that, tried to hide it by continuing his decorations. “That’s...great, Harry. You have yerself a nice time.”

Harry sighed. “I know you don’t like him that much, and he can be an arse, but he’s trying.”

“Yeah, the gits a right wanker, but he’s got a soft spot once you weedle him down.” Ron agreed.

Hagrid shook his head. “It’s not the boy I’m worried ‘bout. It’s ‘is parents.”

Harry frowned, looked at Ron. “What do you mean? They’re a bit high class, but they’re nice.”

Ron snorted. “High class? They spoil Draco rotten! Luckily he’s friends with you, otherwise you two’d butt heads like no one else.”

“What do you mean, Hagrid?” Hermione chimed in.

Hagrid looked uncomfortable.

“Look, it’s not my place to say, but Lucious an’ Narcissa weren’t exactly on the right side of the war.”

Harry nodded. “Draco told me, his Dad was under the Imperius curse. He was an easy target because of his money and influence.”

“The _Imperious_ curse!? Isn’t that one of the Unforgivables?” Hermione gasped.

Ron nodded. “I doubted him for a while, but he showed us the court case and everything. They won, got off scott free. Under the Wizongment, too! My dad works for the Ministry, there’s no way they’d mess up something as serious as that.”

Hermione looked tense. “I had no idea. No wonder he’s so stand offish; His family must’ve gone through something horrible.”

Hagrids eyes look about ready to bug out of his skull. “Oh, really.”

Harry nodded. “He’s told us pretty much everything. His aunt Bellatrix is in Azkaban for torturing Nevilles parents into insanity, you know.”

Hagrid let out a long, squeaky noise, and his hand snapped through the wooden ornament he’d been holding. “ _Really.”_

“Yeah, but Neville and him are fine. Ever since he got him his rememberal back he sort of follows Draco around.” Hermione added.

Just then, Draco came bounding into view, huge grin on his face. His cheeks were pink from the cold, green and silver Slytherin scarf flapping behind him. “He said yes! Dobby’s preparing a room for you right now!” He practically lept into Harry’s arms in his excitement, laughing. Harry’s blushes, a bit shocked at seeing him so carefree. “This is my first Holiday with a friend visiting! Make sure to pack your Nimbus, we can take it and my Comet around the grounds, and Mum’s making an appointment to tailor you some robes for the ball-”

“That’s really not necessary-” Harry started.

“And Hermione, I asked, and you’re invited to the ball, too! Bubo is sending you an invitation.”

Hermione started screaming, several students covering their ears in annoyance. She jumped up and down in excitement. “This is going to be just like Cinderella!”

Ron wrinkled his brow. “Cinder who?”

“Hagrid, Bubo should have delivered your invitation by now.” Draco’s arms were still around Harry, hanging off his neck happily. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this happy. He still can’t believe he invited Hermione.

“Wa- _I’m_ invited to the Black Ball?” Hagrid gaped.

“Yep!” Malfoy leaned forward, pressed his cheek against Harry’s happily. Harry feels his blush get deeper. “I’ll help you pack- We’re leaving Saturday morning!”

"What’s goin’ on." Hagrid looked shocked.

“Oh, also, Bubo’s dropping off that book for you with your invitation. I had mother order it.” He told Hermione.

"What book?” Hagrid asked.

“Oh, nothing important, just a short research study on the sorcerer's stone.” Hermione replied innocently.

Hagrid's eyes got as big as saucers. “I-you-who told you-”

“Oh come _on,_ you oaf.” Draco drawled. “Do you really think my father wouldn’t know who Nicholas Flamel was? He’s part of our country club.”

“I should not have said that." Hagrid grimaced.


	7. Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry at Malfoy manor accidentally triggering everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: Wow. This got 1,200 hits in ONE DAY OF BEING UP. I am shell shocked and so excited I feel like I'm gonna burst. Thank you all so much! I'll try to update as quickly as I can, and I love all your comments! I hope you keep reading, and enjoy!

“-And make sure to have something fitted in Diagon alley, something  _ elegant. _ No hideous muggle clothes. And don’t bring your parents, there’s charms five miles outside the grounds to confound any muggle that tries to get near. And please, for the love of merlin, do  _ something  _ with that hair of yours. I don’t want to be the laughing stalk of the ball.” Draco drawled.

Hermione nodded, taking last minute notes on her parchment as the train whistled.

“Come  _ on,  _ We’re going to miss it! Just owl her anything you forgot!” Ron tugged on Hermione’s arm. 

“Thank you so much, Draco! This is the best christmas present you could’ve given me!” She leapt forward to wrap both him and Harry in a hug. Harry hugged back, laughing quietly at Draco’s disgusted expression. His neck contracts like a turtle. They wave goodbye as the train rolls away.

“Why’d you invite her?” Harry asked, walking over to sit on their shared luggage. He’s got one canvas bag, while Malfoy carries three hard leather suitcases with silver buckles, the Slytherin house snake carved into the sides in icy green emerald. 

“What are you talking about? She obviously wanted to come.” Draco sniffed. 

Harry smiled. “You don’t really like her that much.”

“Well, you do. And inviting her made you happy. So.”

Harry felt his cheeks turn pink. His smile widened. “What if I said you painting your face red for my Quidditch matches would make me happy?”

Draco shivered, disgusted. “Don’t push it. And why are you wearing those god awful muggle clothes?”

Harry laughed. “It’s called a hoodie, and it’s way more comfortable that that green dress of yours.”

“It’s not a dress, it’s a robe, and it’s the highest fashion-”

Just then, he heard a snap, and there’s a three foot tall gremlin standing at his side. He shrieks and falls of the suitcase.

“Hello, young master.” The thing bowed.

“Hello, Pippin. Grab our bags.”

It bowed low to the ground, snapping its fingers. Suddenly the trunks begin to lift into the air.

“You can do magic without a wand!?” Harry exclaimed.

It nodded. “House elves carry old magic. Only Wizards need sticks to channel thier’s.”

Harry suddenly thought back, to Snape and Quirrell using charms with mumbled words on the quidditch field, to Dumbledore creating a feast with a wave of his hands. “There’s a lot of wandless magic, now that I think about it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harry. It’s not a big deal, they just use it for chores anyway. Let’s got.”

The creature- Pippin, was it? - grabbed both their hands, and suddenly Harry’s being sucked into a vortex of brilliant light, a loud crack behind him, and they were standing in front of a mansion.

Harry vomitted in the bushes.

“Sorry, I forgot that you’ve never been aparated before.” Draco looked frantically at Pippin. “Get someone to clean this up, and carry our bags to my room. And get Harry a potion to make him feel better!”

“Yes, young master.” Pippin bowed, and he’s gone, the trunks with him.

“Sorry about your bushes,” He mumbled.

Draco hands him a silk hankie with his initials embroidered on them. Hie wiped at his mouth.

“Draco, Darling!” a voice exclaimed. He turned around and saw Narcissa on the stairs, a beautiful black gown of lace billowing around her, puffed sleeves and high neck. She had black stilettos and impeccable makeup, arms spread wide.

“Hi, mum!” Draco called, running up to her and giving her a hug. Harry hurried after him, taking in the size of the house. It was ginormous, more along the size of a museum.

“Your father should be home from work in a few hours, let’s get you settled in first. How are you, dear?” She asked Harry, leading them through the grand double arched doors. 

“I’m doing well, ma’am. Thank you for having me.”

“So polite! The pleasure is ours.” She smiled. He thinks she might’ve been part selkie. Or angel. She’s really pretty.

He gaped at the marble pillars, the floating candles, the winding double staircase of black obsidian covered in velvet red carpet, two giant christmas flanking along the sides. The windows were stained glass, depicting green and black scenes of snakes curling in on eachother, moving and hissing with magic. He’s mesmerized. 

Draco lead him up to the bedrooms, long empty hall winding along the fourth floor. His room was in a corner facing the pond out back, two high windows on each side. Their trunks were sitting on his bed.

Harry immediately noticed the posters.

“Draco...why are my baby pictures on your wall?” 

Draco looked up, and screams.

There were newspaper clippings, moving photographs, banners with “The Boy Who Lived” written across in different colored ink. There were signed copies of his parent’s biographies, books about the order of the phoenix. On his wall, red string is connected along different photographs of boys that look vaguely like him, as if Draco was trying to find him when the Ministry still had his records sealed. There are teen magazines with his favorite food in them sitting on his desk. The one on top is healdined:  **HARRY POTTER GOES TO HOGWARTS,** circled in red ink over and over again.

Harry blushed. He knew he was a bit of a celebrity, that Draco knew a lot about him, but he hadn’t been expecting something this intense. Any normal person would think it was creepy as fuck, but Harry grew up in a cupboard under the stairs, so. He was just flattered.

“I-this-this isn’t what it looks like-” Draco dove onto his desk, starts to hurriedly hide papers with Harry’s name in a heart. “DOBBY!” He yelled.

There’s a crack, and another house elf appeared before him. He looked far more dishevelled than the other one had.

“Yes, young mastOH MERLIN'S BEARD, IT’S HARRY POTTER!” The elf squeaked, excitement brimming in his huge eyes.

“No, Dobby, clean this up, quick-”  
Dobby wasn’t listening. “Harry Potter, in the flesh! How do you do, sir, it’s an honour!” He frantically shook his hand, jiggling Harry’s arm up and down. “The young master talks about you all the time! He never stops, just goes on and on and on and on-”

“DOBBY!” Draco’s red as a tomatoe.

“He always has to have the latest book about you, sir! I take him to all the special releases, wait in line with him to get his books signed I do! I’ve been reading him stories about your heroics since he was just a baby! He was so thrilled to learn you were going to be in the same school, and look now! Harry Potter, his idol, in his bedroom! Oh, he must be so pleased-”

“DOBBY, CLEAN THIS UP NOW!” Roared Draco. Harry’s shaking with barely concealed laughter. Draco’s got his leg up and his arms spread out, trying to hide the pictures of Harry look alike’s from his wall.

“Oh, Master Draco, show Master Potter your wall! He studied hundreds of pictures of your parents, you know, tried to piece together what you might look like  _ now _ based on them because the Ministry was hiding your records-”

“DOBBY!” he shrieked.

“Oh, sorry young master. Yes young master.” Dobby snapped his fingers, and all Potter paraphernalia vanishes into thin air.

Draco exhaleed, lowers his foot back on the ground. “Leave. Now.”

Dobby shook Harry’s hand again, vigorously, and left with a  _ crack _ .

Harry finally let himself laugh, falling back against the bed with a thump.

Draco scowled and plopped down next to him, shoving a trunk off his bed in the process. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious.”

His ears were still pink. “I...I liked learning about the War, and you were a big part of it. It’s only natural I’d research you a bit.”

Harry poked him in the nose, making him wrinkle it. “A bit?”

“A bit.”

“Well, you definitely thought I was more handsome than I actually am, if those pictures were anything to go by.” He laughed as Draco throws a pillow at his head.

“I was way off. You’re far prettier in real life.”

That makes Harry stop, go pink in the face. “You think I’m pretty?”

Draco splutters, won’t look at him. He reaches out a gentle hand and moves a bit of Harry’s hair away from his forehead, showing his scar. He softly runs his thumb across it. Harry suddenly finds it very difficult to breath. “Obviously. Idiot.”

“Boys!” Narcissa calls. Harry jumped, looking around because he swears she’s in the room with them. “I’ve prepared some snacks!”

“She’s using a voice charm, don’t worry.” Draco said, straightening his robes self consciously.  “Let’s change out of these robes, I smelled lemon curd when I came in.”

They bundled up in coats and took their snacks out to the courtyard, feeding pieces of bread to the swans and crickets to the bright blue jobbernolls. Draco said his grandmother had them imported from the Americas because they never make a sound until right before they die. Harry thinks it’s a bit bittersweet, as they’re incredibly beautiful. Harry insisted on seeing the gardens, tended by several house elves that bow as they walk past. It makes Harry a bit uncomfortable.

“How long are their working hours? 9-5?”

“What are you talking about? They live here!”

Harry gaped.

“We have a servant's quarters in the celler.” At Harry’s look of horror, he quickly backtracked. “No, don’t worry! They’re very nice, they’re similar to how the dormitories are set up!”

Harry’s not quite convinced, but Draco’s quick to distract him with white flowers bigger than his head towering over the soft pillowed snow.

They took their brooms out to the grounds with a quaffle, racing across the tree top with glee. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the snowflakes in Draco’s hair, a sleek white contrast against the pink windswept skin. When the sun began to set, the billywigs came out, spinning and popping in brilliant iridescent blue. All too soon, they’re being called in for supper.

It’s Lucious who greets them on the steps this time, black leather gloves folded over a steel cane with a skull at the handle.

“It’s actually a sword.” Draco whispers, befire running forward and  _ leaping  _ into his fathers arms. The cold exterior fades away to reveal a soft warmth, and Harry is reminded just why Draco talks so much about his father.

Lucious nods at him. “Welcome, Potter.”

Harry deosn’t really know what to do, so he bows. It makes Draco giggle. “Mister Malfoy. Thank you for having me.”

“The pleasure is ours.” He says dryly. “Draco, wash up before dinner.”

Dinner is taken in a fast hall decked with green and silver tinsel, long black obsidian stone table piled high with pheasant and duck. There are some dishes in french that Harry can’t pronounce, and he’s sure his palette isn’t refined enough for any of it. Harry was feeling very intimidated. There was more cutlery in front of him than he knew what to do with, so he just copied everything Draco did and hoped it was good manners. House elves with large pitchers of rich red wine waited by the Malfoy’s sides, while Pippin poured the boys Ribena.

He jumped when a three headed snake started slithering along the top of Luciouses chair.

“Oh, don’t mind Sentarious,” Draco told him. “He’s a family pet. Runespoors are quite popular amongst pureblood families.” 

_ “They young massssssster hasssssss brought a friend,”  _ Sentarious hissed from his middle head.

_ “Nicccccccce to meet you!” _ Harry replied cheerily. Draco and Narcissa freeze in their tracks, whipping around to stare at him. Lucious is still as a statue.

The snake seemed pleasantly surprised.  _ “Welcome to thissssssss manor.” _ The left head greeted. It slithered past, disappearing from the room. 

“Harry, your a  _ parseltongue!?”  _ Draco exclaimed. Narcissa looks alarmed.

“Er-if that means I can talk to snakes, then yes?”

Draco looked so excited. “Oh my goodness, you’re amazing! I should’ve known, obviously, someone more powerful than the Dark Lord had to have at least had all his gifts-”

“Draco, don’t speak blasphemy.” Narcissa quiped, stern.

“Stop it now.” Lucious snapped.

His stomach dropped in dread. “Wait-are you saying Voldemort was a parseltounge too?” 

Draco physically flinched hard enough to smack his head against the back of his chair Narcissa stumbled where she sat, rolling her ankle in her heel. He heared the snakes in the stained glass windows angrily hiss.

_ “Do not speak his name in this house!” _ Narcissa whispered furiously.

“Harry, you can’t take the Dark Lords name in vain!” Draco’s looking at his father, panicked.

Oh no. Harry forgot.

Lucious is the only one who seemed to be unfased, but he clutched at his forarm like it burned. His eyes were dark. “Children, why don’t you have your desert in the kitchens with Dobby.”

“Father, he didn’t mean to-”

“I’m sorry-”

“ _ Now.”  _ Narcissa said. She was staring at her husband, an unreadable expression on his face.

Lucious was staring at Harry’s scar.

“Come on Harry.” Draco mumbled, dragging him by the arm. They scampered out, not before Harry saw Lucious roll up his sleeve and Narcissa rushed over.

“I forgot about about your dad.” Harry said miserably. He couldn’t even focus on his ice cream. Which was a tragedy, because Mrs. Malfoy had gone out of her way to get his favorite for the holiday.

“It’s okay, they know you weren’t raised with your own kind.” Draco still looks a bit shaken, but concern over his friend takes precedence. “Father was furious when he learned you were living with muggles.”

“I probably made a horrible impression.”

“You saved my life, I think a bit of blasphemy isn’t going to undue that.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Can I ask...never mind.”

“No, no, ask! We don’t want a repeat dinner incident, it’s better for you to know what terminology means what.” Draco shovled ice cream into his mouth to calm his nerves.

Harry scratched the back of his neck. His scar was hurting. “Why do you call him the Dark Lord? Everyone else says He Who Must Not Be Named, besides Snape. And the Slytherins.”

Draco set his spoon down.

He swallowed.

“...it’s what his followers called him.”

“...oh.”

Oh.

Draco clearly didn’t know where to look. “A lot of Slytherins...supported his ideas. Even if they weren’t Death Eaters, directly pledged, they weren’t exactly against him. I guess the name just stuck after he died.”

“Like Nazis and Germany during the Holocaust.”

“The what?”

“Ignore it. So your father...he was a Death Eater?”

Draco nodded. “So was Aunt Bella. And almost the whole Black family. Andromeda defected as a blood traitor, married a dirty Muggle.”

“Okay, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call Muggles dirty? They invented plumbing!” Harry knows what Hagrid told him, what he’s read in Draco’s books, what Ron’s let him know about the war: Voldemort was a wizard who thought only Purebloods belonged, and he killed everybody else. Halfbloods, muggle borns, muggles,  _ anyone  _ who wasn’t white, save for the Zambinis, apparently… “Just because they’re different, doesn’t mean they’re bad.”

Draco looked angry. “But look at what Muggles did to you! As far as frames of reference go, they’ve made a horrible impression.”

“The Dursley’s aren’t the best of people, but there are bad wizards too! And there are good Muggles. Like Jesus.”

“Jesus was a wizard, Harry.”

“ _ WHAT.” _

“Technically a sorcerer, actually, since he’s middle eastern. Fun fact, the three days to rise thing was actually an elaborate prank he pulled on his boyfriend Peter-”

“Okay, we’re 100% going to come back to that later, but that’s besides the point.” Harry sighed. “Was your mother one? A Death Eater?”

He shook his head. “Father was cursed, why would she willfully join?”

“But it doesn’t add up, Draco!”

Draco looked a bit angry. “Well what am I supposed to tell you!? It was before I was born! I was six months old when the Dark Lord died. He took my whole family, killed thousands, cursed my dad-”

“But why would your parents still want to call him their Lord after all he did?”

Draco frowned, red faced. “I’ve never really questioned it.”

Harry sighed. “He killed my mum and dad, Draco. I don’t even remember them.” His eyes began to burn, making Harry grip his ice cream tightly. He takes an angry bite. “I don’t think your parents have gotten over what happened. I feel like our whole relationship is just…weird. Like we weren’t supposed to be like this.”

Draco’s lip trembled. “What do you mean? We’re friends.”

Harry looked up at him. He imagined Draco, growing up in this giant house alone, private tutors instead of school with other children, his only friends being two slow brutes, with parents still suffering PTSD from a war that rocked the wizarding world. He knows the ache of loneliness. Harry knows he’s spoiled, and dense, and can be really mean when he wants to be, but he also knows how vulnerable he is. Harry thinks if they hadn’t become friends, Draco might’ve masked that vulnerability with an extra level of venom, lash out at anyone who tried to point out his weakness. 

“Why are we talking about this?” Draco muttered miserably. “Father has it hard enough, with the dark mark flaring up every other day-”

“What’s a dark mark?”

“It’s a tattoo, how the Dark Lord marked his Death Eaters. It’s a snake coming out of a skull. Uncle Snape has one, too.”

Harry sighed. “There’s so much I don’t know.”

Draco hugged him suddenly, Harry lifting his bowl into the air so it wouldn’t get knocked out of his grasp. “I’ll answer all your questions. I promise.”

It’s been an eventful day, so when Draco never shows Harry to his room, and Harry gets comfortable on Draco’s bed, and they pull the covers over their heads with a glowing jar of pixie dust to speak in low voices late into the night, who’s to say why?

They’re facing each other, huddled close with their hands clasped tight on the pillow between their heads. Harry’s first friend. Draco’s best friend. Who cares what happens in the future?

“Names only have power if you give them power, Draco. Voldemort is dead.” Draco flinched hard again, going white. Harry gripped his hand. “He’s not coming back. He’s not going to hurt your family ever again.”

“He’s not going to hurt you either.” Draco murmured. His face was pink, drooping as sleep began to take him. “I’ll fight him. Me and Ron’ll punch him in the nads.”

Harry laughed, leaned closer. Their noses were almost touching. This isn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, Draco taking to passing out in the Gryffindor dormitory when it was too late to sneak back out to his room, snoring and drooling on Ron’s pillow. But tonight felt different. “Let’s make a pact. That we’ll be best friends forever, with Ron and Hermione. The four of us against the world.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Best friends with a mudblood and a blood traitor. My father is going to be furious.” But he squeezes his palm back, and that’s good enough.


End file.
